


our footprints in the dust

by henwens



Category: Kong: Skull Island (2017)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Language Barrier, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-15 05:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12314616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henwens/pseuds/henwens
Summary: the beginning / the middle / the end





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This was... very ambitious to undertake, considering I have limited time after starting a new job. Also, considering the director himself wanted to do an entire prequel film with a budget of $30 million. 
> 
> But, we haven't gotten it yet, so this is my attempt at sharing some of Marlow and Gunpei's story at three different times in their life on the island.
> 
> I owe so much of this to @littlelionvanz, who rekindled my interest in this wacky monster movie and especially the unwritten story of these two men. Thank you for all of the support and encouragement you gave me!
> 
> Enjoy!

         _if you listen hard you will hear my breath_  
LIKE AN ARECIBO TRANSMISSION  _like divine wind_  
        INSIDE THERE IS OXYGEN  
_yes beyond there are knives and chaos_  
        and under our armor  
I WILL BELIEVE  _we have_  the same skin

-Ng Yi-Sheng, "Kami/Kaze: A Correspondence"

* * *

 

When the knife fell from his enemy’s hands, Marlow didn’t feel relief. Instead, he felt the cold sizzle of terror as the huge shadow descended upon them. He glanced to the Japanese man, catching his fearful eye as he shot upwards, up and off of Marlow. Then—a hand in the darkness, tightening around the fabric of his jacket, and pulling him away from the nightmare.

They fled through the jungle side by side, no longer in the frantic chase of war, but instead the mad dash for survival.

Something charged at them in the growing dusk, what looked like a lumbering log with sharp teeth. Marlow felt his throat close around a scream, and pushed forward, fleeing.

Above them, winged things flitted between the trees, their edges slicing the leaves like razors, the green sappy cuttings falling on Marlow’s head.

_Hell_ , a voice said in his ear. _Surely this is Hell_.

Beside him, the other man tumbled over something in the underbrush, and went down.

Without thinking, Marlow turned, found his hand, and returned the favor.

_Man,_ he thought, feeling the hand tighten around his own as they struggled for balance before taking off through the thick forest once more. _Human_.

They were men on an island of monsters. They were alone, but they were together.

* * *

When they finally stopped running, nestled in an area where three trees curled around each other leaving a sheltered pocket, Marlow listened to their breath and wondered how to break the silence.

He tore a thin line of cloth from his shirt and used it to bandage his palms—they had stopped bleeding, but he still felt the cut of the sword’s blade.

_Christ_ , he thought. _Who fights a war with swords_?

He studied the other man’s face in the falling darkness—they’d chased each other into the sunset, and this was where it had left them. He had all the features of the enemies he’d seen in the propaganda pamphlets—yet, none up close before, as they’d only been targets in planes like his then, painted with rising red suns. Perhaps… not _all_ the features—no pointed fangs, or yellow, sunken skin.

_Man, not monster_ , Marlow repeated to himself. He cleared his throat, and the other man startled.

“I think we’re safe,” he started, momentarily forgetting about the language barrier. He swore when he saw the other man’s hesitant face.

Thinking of the sign he would give to signal his ground crew he was good for take-off, Marlow raised his thumb up. The other man observed it for a moment, and then shrugged.

“Okay,” Marlow said. “We can do this.”

The other man said something under his breath, and Marlow tried not to let the foreign language unnerve him. The superior officers had tried to teach them some phrases in case they captured the enemy, but Marlow had not been interested in it before. Up in the air, capture was never really an option.

He did not know he would come to regret that decision.

“I,” he started again, before realizing his throat was thick with—terror? Nerves? Dehydration? He shook it off. “My name is Marlow,” he said, pointing at his chest. “Marlow.”

A long pause, where the other man did not look at him. Finally:

“Gunpei,” the man said, gesturing to himself. Marlow felt an odd flare of excitement.

“Gunpei! Nice to meet you.”

The man looked frantic, and held his finger to his mouth. Marlow’s cheeks burned as the gravity of the situation came rushing back.

“Fuck,” he said miserably.

The man—Gunpei—studied him. “Fuck,” he said in turn.

Marlow felt the smile pull at his lips. They sat in silence and faced the night together.

* * *

Marlow woke to a dry throat and sore knees—they had been curled against his chest for most of the night. Luckily, his back was used to staying in the same position for hours in his plane, so he felt little pain there. Gunpei’s eyes opened slowly against the light filtering in through the leaves—the branches shaded them from much of it, but there was enough to know they were well into the next day.

Marlow waved his hand to get Gunpei’s attention, and mimed drinking water. Gunpei nodded, then looked hesitant. He held his hands about three feet apart, and then tightened his fists and swung them in a downward motion. It took Marlow a few slices before he realized.

“Sword?” He asked, remembering the vicious blade that Gunpei had used to take a healthy slice out of his palms—the memory of which made the wound sting even now.

Gunpei nodded. “ _Shin guntō_ ,” he corrected, and Marlow pretended to understand. Gunpei had brought up an interesting point, though—Marlow had lost his weapons in the wreck, and Gunpei his pistol, sword, and knife in the ensuing fight and flight through the forest. They were defenseless, dehydrated, and they had no idea what was waiting for them out there.

For the first time since the crash, Marlow felt the fight leave him. And then—thought of his wife, married to a soldier too young. She always told him she’d hate to be a widow. And even now, Marlow knew he couldn’t do that to her.

He would get off this island, dead or alive. Either way, he’d find his way back to her.

“Okay,” he said, shaking off his last thought of home. He would reflect on those memories when he had time to build more. “So there’s a big… monkey thing,” he said, miming an ape with dragging fists. “And I can’t begin to describe what else we saw last night. My plane is trashed, but I’ve got some supplies there. If we can make it back to the beach...”

Marlow worried about being too elaborate with his imitations, but it seemed that Gunpei knew as much English as he knew Japanese. Their escape attempt might prove to be more challenging than Marlow anticipated.

Gunpei signaled for his sword once more.

“We can look for weapons on the way.”

Gunpei did not look happy about Marlow’s running motion, but nodded anyway.

They slipped from the cover of the trees when they heard bird song—Marlow was a city boy, through and through, but he thought he understood the logic behind that. They were bigger than the birds here, and if they weren’t scared then there was nothing to be afraid of.

At least… Marlow hoped they were bigger than the birds here.

* * *

“So do you know any English?” Marlow asked as they attempted to retrace their steps from the night before. It wasn’t too hard—they had crashed through the underbrush pretty spectacularly. Marlow made a note that they would have to cover their tracks a little better if they were to return to the nest in the trees.

“English,” Gunpei’s accent was thick. His eyes looked upward—he was thinking. “Yes. No. Surrender. Die. _Nihongo_?”

Marlow shook his head—he couldn’t even tell if Gunpei had asked what he thought he asked. “But maybe we can add to our vocabularies. Let’s try… sorry.” He made a face like he felt bad about something. Gunpei scoffed—Marlow might have mistaken it for a laugh.

“ _Gomen nasai_ ,” Gunpei explained. Marlow tried it, the words heavy on his tongue.

“Okay,” Marlow said. “Well, sorry that I threw your sword away. Wish we had it now.”

Gunpei nodded. “ _Shin guntō_.”

“Right… shin gun-toe.”

There was a stretch of silence, and before Marlow could clear his throat, Gunpei spoke.

“ _I_ _t is a pity that I did not act with honor. When we faced the devil_."  1

Gunpei made a terrifying face, and although Marlow did not understand the words, he knew what the other man meant.

“Monsters.”

“ _Kaijū_.”

As if on cue, there was a rustling in the bushes behind them, and Gunpei pushed Marlow forward.

But Marlow wouldn’t leave the only human thing on this wretched island behind—he grabbed Gunpei’s arm and they took off together.

* * *

Marlow hated to admit it, but he was surprised when they finally emerged from the dense forest and found themselves on the beach. He was never a pessimist, but he had thought it would take them a lot longer. No more than two hours had passed, two hours of exchanging words and running whenever they heard the barest snapping of a twig.

Marlow had learned _tasukete_ , _arigato, anzen_. He had taught Gunpei, “Help me,” “Thank you,” and “Coast’s clear.”

Their vocabulary was built around survival, but it would work for now.

Gunpei was the first to catch a glimpse of the wreckage and, unnerved by the exposure of the beach, they both took off for it. Gunpei reached it first, and began to dig around for supplies. Marlow only had three canteens of water, and a day’s worth of rations, but it would give them the energy they needed to look for their next means of survival.

Gunpei found the bag, grabbed a canteen, and studied Marlow for a moment. With a sickening moment of clarity, Marlow knew he was going to run.

“Don’t,” he said, and Gunpei shook his head.

“ _Gomen nasai_ ,” he said, and Marlow hated that he knew what it meant. He reached out wildly to grab Gunpei, but the man dodged his reach, and took off up the dunes.

“Son of a bitch!” Marlow shouted, struggling to follow him. He grabbed the other two canteens on the way, and mostly on instinct, dug behind the crumpled seat to find the pistol he thought he had stashed there. His hand closed around the cold weapon and he pulled it out, immediately checking the chamber. It was full, but he did not have any more ammo. He could use it on the island and its creatures, or he could use it on…

“Gunpei!” He shouted. “Come back!”

Sand pooled around his boots as he struggled up the dune, nearly swallowing him. Marlow had always considered himself healthy, but this island was proving to be a strain. He was amazed the other man made it up so quickly, and worried about the time he had lost. He already knew he would not use the gun on Gunpei. He would not be left alone.

He made it to the top of the dune just in time to watch Gunpei disappear into the dense forest, not fifty paces away. This was the way they had gone the other night, chasing each other in the heat of battle. Before their entire world shifted.

Now, Marlow would be the one chasing Gunpei—not for victory, but for survival.

* * *

Marlow walked slowly through the forest, watching his step, and looking for any sign of the other man. He prayed that his pace would not make the distance between them grow larger, but he was terrified of what remained unseen just ahead of him.

He tried not to let the desperation take hold, but two stood a better shot at making it off the island than one. He needed to see his family again, and Gunpei could get him there.

Marlow felt his emotions consume him, his fears of a child whose face he would never see, a wife who would find another. Not even a day on this wretched island and Marlow already felt lost to the world.

His breath grew ragged with panic as he continued to walk, almost unseeing. It was not until he ran headfirst into a thick bamboo stalk that he startled to his surroundings. The jungle had grown thick with the tall and slender sticks, and the canopy above shaded everything a sickly dark color.

Marlow had just become aware of a creaking sound above him when the first stalk descended from the sky and grazed his forearm, tearing through the thick leather of his jacket.

“Shit!” He cried, diving to the ground and rolling away. He landed sharply on his back and looked up, horrified at what he saw waiting there.

It was giant. The spider’s protruding and purple abdomen was covered in bristly, course hair, supported by eight heavy legs. It danced to the right, one heavy, bamboo-like leg colliding with the ground right next to Marlow’s face. He turned to the side as a spray of dirt hit his face.

Reaching for his gun, he sprang into a crouched position and raised it above his head. He fired off two shots into the thorax, before darting up to retreat as another leg swung at him. He was too late, though—it swept his feet out from under him, and he hit the ground hard, his chin colliding with a rock, making his teeth clatter painfully.

“Fuck,” he said softly, rolling over with a groan. The spider was dripping blood, but it had not slowed down—instead, gnarled red tendrils descended towards Marlow. He kicked his feet to get away, but they were too fast, and he was too slow—they wrapped tightly around his stomach and lifted him up into the air.

Without thinking, he brought the gun up and fired at the tendril that held him. The shot rang out sharply, reverberating in his ears. Drops of sticky blood spilled onto his face, temporarily blinding him. And then—his entire world shifted once, twice, and he was falling.

“Marlow!” A thickly accented voice was calling to him, and then there were hands at his shoulders, dragging him away. As his back skidded against the ground, he felt the vibrations of something big falling hard. His breath was sharp in his throat, and he struggled to clear his vision, when something soft swiped over his face.

As his hearing returned, too, he felt the presence leave him, and then the swift slice of a blade cutting through air. The death keens of some large insect, and then:

“C-Coast’s clear.”

The voice betrayed nerves, but when Marlow cleared the last of the gunk from his eyes, he saw only the calm, foreign-turned-familiar face of Gunpei.

* * *

" _Tasukete,_ " Gunpei's voice was growing clearer, and Marlow tried to focus on the cool tones. " _You are safe now._ "

Marlow had no idea what the other man was saying, but he felt his pulse steady. Just being in the presence of another was something that Marlow had always relied upon, had always craved—he did not dare to dwell on what would have happened if Gunpei had not returned.

"Okay?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. Gunpei ran the cloth—a handkerchief, Marlow saw now—over his face once more, clearing more of the sticky blood away. 

"Yes," Gunpei said. "O.K."

He gave the thumbs up signal, and Marlow wheezed out a hearty laugh. His chest felt warm when he saw the smile flicker across the other man's face, but it was brief, giving way to worry as Gunpei glanced down to study Marlow's arm.

"S'nothing," Marlow said, already struggling to stand. "We need to keep moving—"

"No," Gunpei said, and Marlow felt a hand on his shoulder pushing him roughly back to a seated position. " _Tasukete_."

Marlow remembered now;  _safe_. He saw the scene for what it was now, took in the spider's corpse, and the long, sharp blade of Gunpei's  _shin-guntō_. Gunpei had saved him. Gunpei was keeping him safe.

"Th-" The word stuck in his throat, and he eased himself back from the edge of panic. They were supposed to be enemies, Gunpei had chased him, Gunpei had run from him. Gunpei had saved him. 

"Thank you," he said softly, as Gunpei's small but strong hands cradled his wounded arm. With his free hand, he ripped off more of the hem from his shirt, and handed it to the other man to serve as a bandage. Gunpei looked a little disgusted, but used some water from the canteen to clean the wound before wrapping it. Marlow watched as more blood seeped through the cloth, but after a minute of watching, it seemed to stabilize. 

“Ikari,” Gunpei said suddenly. Marlow tried to catch his eye, but the other man was looking only at the ground... a little furiously.

“What?”

“Ikari,” he said again, pointing at his heart. Marlow wondered if it was the name of a sweetheart, but then he realized—

“Oh!” He said. “Hank.”

Gunpei glanced up and smiled. Marlow felt caught off guard, and not for the first time.

“O.K., Hank,” Ikari said. “ _How do we get off the island_.”

Marlow observed the signal for island, the fleeing gesture, and understood. “Whatever we do, we will do it together.”

Gunpei studied him, and Marlow calmly reached out his hand. Gunpei nodded, and clasped onto it tightly.

"Together," Marlow repeated. Gunpei's smile pulled tightly at the corners of his mouth, and Marlow knew they were going to be okay. 

“ _Hitotsu toshite_.”  

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I played around with English-Japanese translating sites and, originally, had constructed translations of some of Gunpei's longer sentences. However, I just didn't trust the translation and didn't want to offend, so I went ahead and just wrote the speech in English. When Gunpei speaks in italics, therefore, it should be read with the understanding that he is speaking Japanese-- and although the reader gets an insight into his character, Marlow still has little to no idea what he is saying.


	2. the middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't make the rules but Peggy Lee's version of Similau goes so well with all of this. Please enjoy the update!

They spent a few weeks creating a shelter in their enclave of trees, before learning the hard way that the birdsong they had been hearing was actually the mimicking chatter of huge ants, which tore through the supplies they had gathered in seconds and left a nasty gash in the meat of Gunpei’s calf.

Marlow had bandaged it with another strip of his shirt, washed first in the stream they had found not far from their now-abandoned camp. If the island kept coming after them, Marlow thought with a bitter humor, he was going to need to find another shirt.

He tried explaining what felt like a joke to Gunpei, but the other man just looked at Marlow’s torn shirt with apprehension.

Their next camp was on the other side of the stream, and higher up, in a shallow cave carved into a cropping of limestone. They had to climb to get there, and after hauling their few supplies up (including their three canteens of water and a stack of kindling) they hardly felt like moving.

Marlow lay on his back, feeling the cool of the rock seep through his jacket, and listened for birdsong—what he now knew as danger.

But it remained quiet, and perhaps that was the true sound of safety here, where everything wanted to eat them.

“Where do you think we are?” He asked Gunpei.

But a quick glance over revealed that the other man had fallen asleep, his breath coming short and shallow. Marlow leaned up and checked the gash on Gunpei’s leg. It was nasty and ragged, but did not look infected.

Gunpei’s breath hitched and Marlow was horrified when he saw a tear slip from the other man’s closed eyes. _A nightmare_ , Marlow thought, but he did not feel embarrassment for Gunpei. After almost a month on the island, he knew what those were like.

Instead of waking Gunpei, though, he decided to let him rest. Marlow shrugged off his jacket, folded it, and carefully placed it under the other man’s head—and then curled beside him, facing the opening of the cave, and keeping his eyes open.

* * *

They had been in the cave for a month when they try to escape the island for the first time.

It is a resounding failure, and it ends with the flaming husk of Marlow’s engine and a series of razor-hot burns on his right arm. Gunpei and Marlow sit in the sand of the beach, back to back, as Marlow tries to hide his frustrated tears.

“I wish I was home,” Marlow said, his voice tight.

“Home,” Gunpei repeated. He knew that word by now. They knew so many words of each other’s language now—learned fast and crudely over a crackling fire, locked away behind a makeshift door, a man-eating jungle watching them and learning, too.

“I didn’t,” Marlow started when they were back at the cave that night, his arm washed and bandaged carefully by Gunpei. They had found a plant nearby, soft and absorbent, that felt cool when placed against the skin, and had taken to reusing the strips of cloth Marlow had already sacrificed to bind the leaves to their wounds.

Marlow cleared his throat. “I never showed her to you. My wife.”

Gunpei looked up from where he had been placing a stone over their fire, something that would heat the food they had collected yesterday—no gains had been made that day. They had wildly hoped they would not need it.

Marlow grunted as he reached his good arm into the upper pocket of his jacket, which had remained tightly clasped since the day of the crash.

“I didn’t want to look,” he said. “Until I knew I would see her in person.”

Without turning the picture over, he passed it to Gunpei. The other man took it wordlessly, gave it a glance, and passed it back with a nod.

“Beautiful,” he said. “Looks kind, like a mother…”

“She always said it was her destiny. And then she would laugh, and say it was… I don’t remember the word. She was a modern woman, scary at times, but she still desperately wanted a family. And we were young, and stupid, and I thought I could give it to her.”

“There is a child?”

Marlow hesitated, gazing into the fire.

“By now, he’s probably a year old. But… I don’t even know when his birthday was. Hell, I don’t even know if it’s a boy.”

“Then…”

“Well, she always said she would have a boy. And I always believed her.”

Gunpei leaned over to where he stored his meager possessions, and pulled at his own jacket. From the pocket, he revealed a crisply folded photo. He flicked it open as he held it to Marlow.

“My mother. She had all sons.”

Marlow glanced up to meet Gunpei’s eyes, his heart stuttering with disbelief. They had not shared much beyond their language, but Marlow had apparently opened a gate now.

Gunpei’s mother looked… stern, if Marlow could call it that. Or perhaps she was calm. Perhaps she was calm even when Gunpei went off to join the Imperial Army. Calm even now that he had not returned.

“My mother had… hardship,” Gunpei explained. “My brothers, two,” he held up his fingers as if to count them off. “Dead before adulthood. I survived. I was youngest.”

Marlow nodded. “I had a sister.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I don’t anymore.”

Gunpei watched him, studied him. Marlow did not turn away.

“I do not have a wife,” Gunpei said. “But I do not want any more family to be lost. We will go… home. We will.”

Marlow could only bring himself to nod. 

* * *

They had been on the island three months when something found their cave. They were gone when it happened, when something tore past their makeshift barrier between Inside and Outside, Us and Them. Gunpei screamed when he realized what had happened, an angry, guttural thing, anger at the scratches gouged into the wall and the ravages of their few belongings.

It hadn’t been home, but it had been theirs.

Marlow pulled him away, pulled him down the limestone cliffs, pulled him to the river.

“We’ll follow this,” he said. “We should explore more of the island, anyway,” he said. “Maybe we’re missing something.”

Gunpei could only nod numbly. When they took off up the river, all they had were the jackets on their back and a canteen each.

* * *

They could not miss the wall, although it took three days of walking to first lay eyes on it. Marlow’s heart raced when Gunpei first spotted it, his voice catching in his eagerness to call it out—first in Japanese, and then in English.

Their excitement waned, however, as they grew closer.

“What if it is his?” Gunpei asked fearfully one night, as they cowered together in the hollow of a giant tree—larger than anything Marlow would have seen in his previous life, but not unusual for the island. Even still, they were pressed arm to arm, and Marlow sank a little further into Gunpei’s warmth when he began to speak.

“We haven’t seen him since that first night.” Marlow felt like scolding Gunpei for bringing it up, but the giant king of the island had haunted his dreams too.

“What else could build that?”

“Humans,” Marlow said. “Humans built the Great Wall of China, so you of all people should know what we are capable of.”

He felt Gunpei’s fingers pinch the back of his thigh, exposed as Marlow curled his legs to his chest. He bit back a laugh as the other man whispered harshly, “ _Not_ Chinese.”

“Okay, okay,” Marlow said. “But listen, I’ve seen a lot of things pop up in America these past years that I could never have explained to my parents. Even out here—especially out here, who knows what we are capable of.”

Gunpei was silent, and for a moment, Marlow was worried that he wouldn’t agree, and they would never go near the wall to find out.

But then, from the darkness he heard: “Maybe you are right.”

“Music to my ears,” he said, and finally let the laughter bubble from his throat as Gunpei pinched him again and swore harshly in Japanese.

* * *

“Seriously,” Marlow was saying. “You’ve gotta let me teach you the rules sometime.”

“So we can play… base ball?”

“Baseball, yeah,” Marlow said. “We’ll have fun. I’ll even let you win the first game.”

They were growing ever closer to the shadow of the wall, but when Marlow looked back at Gunpei, he didn’t see nerves dance across his features, but the briefest glimmer of a smile. Marlow was surprised when he wanted to keep looking.

“Almost there,” he said, his voice growing lower.

Gunpei looked up to meet his eyes. “I can see,” he said, and his smile grew bolder.

Marlow turned back to study the path.

In the end, they did not get to the wall before the builders came to them. Gunpei cried out, too late, and Marlow found himself face to face with the very pointy tip of a spear.

“ _Stop_ ,” Gunpei spoke boldly, as Marlow felt the point edge toward his throat. He looked up and felt Gunpei approach from behind.

“ _We are human, like you_ ,” Gunpei’s voice was level, Marlow knew that much, even though some of the words escaped him and, no doubt, escaped their assailants. “ _We seek only refuge, a safe place, from the monsters that chase us._ ”

From the shadows, two figures emerged, their bodies painted a deep color to blend in with the surrounding forest. They spoke to each other in cool tones, mimicking Gunpei’s attitude. Then, one of them lowered the spear.

“ _Monsters_ ,” their voices sounded rough, trying to form the words. “Creatures.”

Gunpei nodded, and placed his hand at the small of Marlow’s back. Even with the weapon away from his throat, Marlow was thankful for the reassuring pressure. He was not alone.

“Y-You know English?” He asked. They shook their heads. “Japanese?”

Again, a no. And yet, they seemed to understand them well enough.

“May we come with you?” Gunpei asked, in English this time. “My friend, and I?”

The two figures gestured for them to follow and disappeared into the bushes once more. Gunpei glanced at Marlow, nudging him forward. But Marlow could not resist:

“Friend?” He asked, feeling the smile grow on his face.

Gunpei shook his head. “Watch where you go, next time.”

But as Gunpei pushed them forward, Marlow saw the glow of a smile on his face once more.

* * *

They called themselves the Iwi, and they seemed to understand Marlow and Gunpei inherently, although they in turn could not understand the strange language of the painted tribe. But Marlow and Gunpei accepted the refuge gratefully, and began to recreate the sense of safety their last shelter had given them.

They had been given a room in a giant, ramshackle warship that the natives had apparently pulled from the river. After a few days with the Iwi, Gunpei made a discovery at the base of the ship, and brought Marlow down to see it.

“ _It is a shrine_ ,” he said in Japanese. He motioned a sign that Marlow assumed meant prayer. As he took in the tall stones painted with depictions of all of the horrors of the island, he felt a great disconnect. This was not like the church he had been dragged to every Sunday by his mother and aunt.

“And… look,” Gunpei continued, gesturing to the tableau in the center of the room. It depicted a large primate, reigning over the people of the island.

“I do not think they are afraid of him,” Gunpei said. “I think he is… a king.”

“If they aren’t afraid of him,” Marlow said. “Are they more afraid of something else?”

His eyes had caught one of the painted stones, upon which fierce creatures tore into the villagers. It was a grim scene.

He nearly jumped when Gunpei lay a hand on his shoulder. “I think we are safe now,” he said. “I think we should be glad.”

But Marlow had already felt the growing fear of complacency at their last shelter, when it was just the two of them. Now that they had found people who made their home on the island, would Gunpei not want to leave?

He felt his heart go to his throat and pushed Gunpei’s hand away.

“Whatever’s out there,” Marlow said. “We can’t let it stop us from going home.”

Gunpei’s mouth was opening to respond, but Marlow was out the door before he could hear it.

Marlow returned to their room that night ready to apologize; or, at the very least, explain himself. When he swung open the rusted door that gave them the image of privacy, he saw Gunpei sitting in the center of the room, facing a small table. Upon it, he had set painted stones, scrawled with Japanese writing. In the center of this was the picture of Gunpei’s mother.

“What is this?” Marlow said, his voice tight. He did not know why the sight of this made him so angry.

Gunpei looked up at him and smiled. “I like the idea. We had one in my home, for my father. I know—I hope my mother is still alive, but I want to honor her. Would you… do the same for your family?”

Marlow thought about placing his photo on the altar, and felt visceral fear. To do so would be to admit defeat. Marlow would never give up on reaching them. They would never be dead to him.

“You think you’re honoring her?” Marlow felt the words catch in his throat and he spit on the ground. “She is not dead, and neither are you. We don’t _need_ this. We are going to see them again!”

His voice had grown loud without his realizing it, and he watched as Gunpei’s face grew red. He stood up quickly, but his voice was level as he responded.

“This is for me,” he said. “This is honor to me. If you cannot… if you do not want to, you do not have to. But I _have_ to. I have to let my mother know that I am here. I need her to feel this.”

Gunpei turned away from him, but just before he did, Marlow saw the glimmer of tears in the other man’s eyes. This was the first time, since that first fight, where emotions had been this tense between them.

“Why now?” Marlow asked. “We haven’t… we haven’t tried again, yet. I want to know that you want to get off this island, and I know your family will motivate you to do that.”

“You are wrong,” Gunpei said. “I do not have a family. I did something, after my father died, that made me lost to them. To join the war was my chance to survive.”

Marlow grabbed Gunpei’s arm and pulled him closer. “I don’t know what you did, and you don’t have to tell me. But family is meant to stick together. If you get back to her, maybe she will take you back. You obviously still care for her—”

“No,” Gunpei interrupted. “It is too late.”

Marlow felt disappointment, but it was not his alone. Family was his entire drive. He had gone into the service to protect them from what he saw as a growing threat. And now here was his enemy, who had gone into service because his family had left him without any other option.

“But I want you to get home,” Gunpei said suddenly. Marlow hadn’t realized how close they were standing, to the point where Gunpei was neatly nestled against his shoulder. He tightened his grasp on Gunpei’s arm as the other man said, “I will help you. I will help you.”

Marlow closed his eyes and felt Gunpei's breath at the nape of his neck, listened to the words still ringing in the air.

He wondered if Gunpei would understand if he told him what he thought in that moment—that even when they left the island, he would not leave Gunpei behind.


	3. the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the horrible delay in getting this chapter out! I also apologize for the ending, but I did not want to stray from where the film went. I believe it's ultimately uplifting, though, and shows that not much would tear these two apart.

Marlow couldn't say when it began. All he knew was that, as the months ticked away and their room in the abandoned ghost ship grew to be a home, he began to seek Gunpei out for touch.

He had always been a physical person— roughhousing as a boy had developed into the kind touches between he and his wife. And now, on an island of only so many people, Marlow felt that keen desire to reach out to another person. And he found it in Gunpei. 

Or at least, he thought he had, until one day Gunpei pulled away. 

Marlow tried not to think much of it— they were working on their boat, the biggest one they had built to date, and Gunpei moved away to reach for a piece of sheet metal that they were attaching to the side. But when Marlow moved to help him affix it, Gunpei jolted away. The piece fell from the boat with a heavy  _clang_ , the noise making Marlow's heart pound a little faster. 

Gunpei apologized, in Japanese, and Marlow shrugged. But when they both reached down to right it, Marlow felt like the distance between them had grown a little further. 

He didn't know what he was trying to do, but he knew this wasn't the result that he wanted. 

* * *

Sometimes, their travels for scraps brought them outside the safety of the Iwi encampment, and outside the walls.

It was on their eighth journey out that they saw Him again, the King of the Island. Kong didn't see them, buried as they were under the brush, but they heard his terrible roar and saw those heavy fists swing their way through the air, and their bodies were wracked with a terror they couldn't acknowledge. They crouched together until he passed, and Marlow didn't even realize that at some point, his hand found Gunpei's and clasped it tight. And Gunpei had let him. 

Kong left. Marlow didn't move. He turned to Gunpei, observed his eyes wide in terror, his face softening around the edges as he slowly realized the danger was leaving them. Marlow brought Gunpei's hand to his chest and squeezed it, reassuringly.

"Ikari—"

"Don't do it," Gunpei turned away, suddenly, his throat moving as though something was cutting off air. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I'm not." Marlow had a sudden inkling he had lost the plot. What promises had he made, again? "I mean, I will. I am going to get us both off this island." 

He saw Gunpei's face fall. He grabbed his arm and pulled him close. Gunpei shuddered, but did not move away. 

"I won't leave your side until you are safe. Until you have gotten what you want."

"What I want..." the other man said into Marlow's shoulder. Marlow breathed in and released him, but Gunpei didn't move away at first. Then, as though he was tearing a bandage off a wound, Gunpei pulled farther from him. 

"What I want," he continued. "Is to see you returned to your family."

A new and wonderful thought flashed through Marlow's mind:  _And I want you there too_.

Now he just needed to make it known. 

* * *

This boat is bigger than any they have built before.

Marlow believes in the boat. 

On the morning of their launch, Marlow and Gunpei argue over what to pack. Gunpei insists they should bring their weapons, Marlow just wants to leave, doesn't want to think about the trouble they might encounter once they set off. In the end, he knows Gunpei is right.

Gunpei leaves his shrine intact and, just before they leave their rooms, Marlow slips the picture of his wife next to the picture of Gunpei's mother. If Gunpei sees this, he doesn't say anything. Marlow traces a finger down her face, as he has done a thousand times before, and finally tears his eyes away. 

He believes he will see the real thing soon enough. 

Gunpei is watching him closely as they depart from the shores of the Iwi encampment, and begin to make their way down the river. Marlow feels eyes on him as he studies the horizon. 

"Stop it," he says, eventually. They've reached a patch of open water, the shoreline extending around them. Gunpei remains quiet, and the silence is starting to creep beneath Marlow's skin. 

When he turns to meet Gunpei's gaze, opening his mouth to ask what the matter is, he sees that Gunpei has not been watching him, but the waves their boat is making behind them.

"Something is following us," Gunpei explains, and Marlow's heart nearly stops in terror.

"Get your sword," he says, reaching for his gun— low on ammunition as it is.

He had hardly finished speaking as the first tentacle began to rise slowly from the depths of the river, unfathomable as it was. Gunpei stifled a cry and readied himself for the fight, as Marlow shakily lifted his pistol.

It wasn't much of a fight at all. As the tentacle heaved towards them, Gunpei brought his sword down swiftly and sharply— immediately, it was embedded in the tough skin of the creature. Gunpei leveled his boot against the appendage as it wrapped it's way around the boat, trying to pull his weapon free. Meanwhile, Marlow let out a shot, which ricocheted off a particularly large barnacle and punched a hole through the boat. 

The tentacle began to tighten, their boat crushed in the monster's grip, and Gunpei and Marlow shared a look of defeat. 

"Let it go!" Marlow cried, as the metal floor gave out below them. Gunpei was still tugging at the sword, trying not to lose one of their only weapons. 

"Ikari!" Marlow shouted once more, before he lost sight of the other man altogether, and plunged into the water's depths. 

Below the surface of the water, even in the darkness, Marlow saw the hulking shape of the octopus, and saw the tentacle drag Gunpei down, and down, and down.

* * *

 Marlow could not find Gunpei anywhere on the shore he washed up on, and so he went back into the water. 

It was grotesque, to find his friend floating among the wreckage of their ship, their dream of escape, pale and lifeless. He tried not to let grief weigh him down prematurely, as he hooked an arm around Ikari and swam them back to the land. 

He struggled to remember his military training— place pressure on the drowning victim's chest, lift their arms, clear the airways. He noticed that Gunpei was not breathing, and thought he remembered something about rescue breaths. He brought his mouth to Gunpei's and breathed out until he felt Gunpei's chest expand. Before he could apply the pressure again, Gunpei began to cough, the brackish water trickling past his lips.  

"Thank God," Marlow cried, the adrenaline leaving his body in a heady rush. He collapsed over Gunpei's shaking form, cradling him for warmth. Gunpei's arms rose around him, shaking, returning the embrace. 

Marlow's face was pressed beside Gunpei's, so it took him a moment to realize that the other man was crying.

"We aren’t giving up," Marlow said, pulling away. “We’re not. No matter how long it takes, we’ll build another, and we’ll… we’ll wait, this time, we’ll make sure it works. Gunpei. Ikari. Look at me.”

Gunpei was shielding his face in his hands. “It is my curse, Hank. You are never getting off this island with me by your side. I am wrong for this world—I am a killer. I killed.”

“Hey, look at me,” Marlow felt hot tears on his face—he always felt panicked when Gunpei grew distressed like this. “We’ve talked about this before. We did what we thought was right for our countries. There’s no shame in it. No shame.”

“Honor,” Gunpei whispered bitterly. “What honor is there in killing.”

“There’s honor in saving lives,” Marlow said, “And you’ve saved my life a thousand times over. You’re saving my life just by—by being here, by my side. Ikari, do you think I would have lasted longer than that first night here, without you? I need you.”

Marlow reached a hesitant hand to Gunpei’s face. “I need you.”

Gunpei glanced into his eyes, dark pupils growing large. “Marlow…”

"And I won't leave you. If you didn't have a home before, you have one now. With me."

Gunpei's face was frozen. "Not in the way I want, though. We are not the same."

Marlow couldn't explain it, but he knew they were the same in every way. "I want you to come home with me."

When he pulled Gunpei close, he could have sworn their heartbeats were matching each other's pace— frantic, but steady, the way it always was when they were with each other.

"I will be there," Gunpei whispered, and Marlow knew it would be true. 

* * *

They try again, and again, and a thousand times over. They try until, one day, they can no longer. 

Marlow feels the defeat deep in his heart. As he turns his new possession over in his hands, gifted by Gunpei in those last moments, he thinks about seeing Gunpei again. He knows, though, as he places the blade in the dirt near Gunpei's final resting place, that it is only a matter of time before his wish comes true.

They had faced the darkness of this world, and one day, Marlow knew, they would see the light.

 _Hitotsu to shite_.

As one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I so apologize for that delay, as well as any incorrect Japanese translations. Please, please correct me if you are knowledgeable in the subject!


End file.
